These Games we Chose to Play
by kallisonjands
Summary: All our lives we had trained for this moment. This moment when we could and would be crowned victorious. But had I known then the cost that winning presented I would have turned and ran from that academy, from district two. Cato and I stood holding strong together. But alone I was falling apart. What would you do to get back the one you love?


His massive body wrenched around mine in such a way I knew to be his definition of careful. Cato pressed me into the underbelly of a large marsh. His huge six foot figure took up most of the small area and believe me I was no pixie myself. The both of us together left a scene I'll leave you to depict for yourself. It was in one word uncomfortable. The fact that everyone I had ever known was watching now with bated breath made me sigh in agony rather than content. His hand clasped onto my mouth willing silence from my lips. We needed burn cream for my arm. A marring patch of dead skin took up most of my forearm now. In past games careers had no problems getting supplies. But as of late Katniss Everdeen had sucked potential sponsors dry, on top of that at this point in the games you would need quite a large sum of money to even think of life saving burn cream. So why did it so happen that two of the most cunning and powerful tributes of these entire Hunger Games should end up sandwiched together in the mud? For now it seemed that the gamemakers had long since grown tired of the childish ploys between Cato and I. Never mind that what he and I shared was, entirely truthful, albeit sometimes too potentially life threatening for either of our own good, but truthful nonetheless. What is the life long struggles of two made to kill each other to simple eyelash batting on Katniss's part? In the gamemakers eyes diddly squat. For in these games while some might have you believe that training to be an elite killer will keep you alive any good mentor will tell you it's captivating the audience that keeps your pulse going.

I could feel Cato's rapid heartbeat as if it were my own. He was anxious, although you'd have better luck prying your arm from a cobra than finding any resemblance of nervousness on his face. He was stoic. Something I always admired at the academy. He could make you so sure you were going to win the fight, that's when he would strike. Like a lion hides in the grass watching his prey almost lazily, Cato would stare you down, then all in a fluid motion, he stuck. But now rather than admire that lethargic stare I grappled with the need to make him show me some sense that the Cato I knew to be real was in the dead shell of a man I lay here with now. Then all at once my thoughts were smashed by a large hand ripping me up from the mud. This was my ending, my queen was about to be murdered, my opponent had called checkmate. That hand belonged to non-other than the brute from district 11. The very same one that had torn apart a training dummy made with his bare hands. The very same that had, from my first day in training stared daggers at my sword abilities. Here now he stood with a tight fist of chocolate brown hair. My death was unavoidably here.

Fear is a single word to sum up a rush of terrible things happening all at once. A racing heartbeat, physical pain, booming voices centered on you, the wait for inevitable suffering. Fear. I tried to reason, a skill that not only had I never acquired but never needed until this time. What was I supposed to say? I couldn't say I would let him live. The hunger games gave no chance of survival. No chance for redemption or pity. Cato was right on district 11 throwing punches at his back, none of them really landing. Cato was never good at scrapping. He was losing bad until I landed a right hook into 11's nutsack. At which point he went on the defense of that area. The satisfying crunch of a broken nose was heard as Cato gave the audience a stellar show. All of my tension was released. I was free and alive. I attempted to fix my hair and mud caked face and soon enough a sweaty Cato appeared at my side. He took a lock of my curls in his hand"Your hair's not that bad. I bet the guys back home still think you're the prettiest girl at the academy." He spoke trying to smooth out my furrowed brow. But no amount of flattery could make either of those statements truthful. As for the state of my face and hair I'm almost certain I had never looked worse and the prettiest girl at the academy was Tabitha Martins, who was much more exciting than her name leads on. He knew how much I coveted for her caramel completion and curvaceous hips. She was a walking dream and even oblivious Cato saw Tabby, she was hard to miss for god sakes. I punched his arm lightly as we sat quietly in the underbrush. We were the last 2 in an insurmountable battle against the star-crossed lovers of district 12 and while we were just as star-crossed we had a better head about it, we died together or we won as partners. You'd be sadly mistaken if you believe Katniss would do that for Peeta. So there in the darkness I knew we had to win, for no such shame as losing could come against two 16 year olds from district 2, the capital wouldn't murder us now. "We've nearly made it Cato." I barely whispered. But as the words left my mouth I had sincere doubts about our state as a team. Would we make it? The mangled mess of flesh on my arm told me no but my years of training and dedication screamed yes. These games were shaping up to be interesting indeed.

Laying there in the cool dew of morning I quizzically looked onto a sleeping beauty of my own, Cato. He had stolen my sleeping bag last night and now slept cozy warm with it wrapped around his body. his hair had grown shaggy these past weeks and it stuck up in a singular act of defiance against me, for even when I patted it down it would spring back up. my fingers found his rosy cheeks, the ones that hid a beautiful pair of dimples. No matter what happened he was mine I thought dragging my dirty index finger down across his strong jaw. "Stop that Kiera it tickles." He grumbled stuck in a dreamy half sleep. My heart broke as he whispered his seven year old sister's name. "Cato. Wake up." I spoke gulping down tears. His blue eyes icily shot open. " Shara! You shouldn't scare me like that." He boomed obviously caught off guard. He was once again ready to play his role as career and for the first time in my 16 years of life I had to question if I was ready to play mine. " Sorry, Mr. Jerk." I sneered back. He smirked successfully pissing me off as he ran off to go wash up. " wait up you big oaf!" I yelled after him. After a good bath I sat back thinking fondly of his many social escapades involving females back at the Academy. The squirrel carcass I was cooking crackled sweet aromas throughout our camp as I reminisced. Lottie Anne Dueberry was a girl that stood out most in my mind. Being four years both Cato and I's senior she was unattainable. But at any rate Cato was sure he would marry her. The first day of seventh grade he couldn't even work up the courage to speak to her. "Cato you have zero chance with Lottie." I said smirking at the lanky boy by my side. He scowled up at me and elbowed my side. " Mark my words Shara, I'm gonna get with her by the end of seventh grade." I laughed down towards the sorry excuse for a fighter. "Yeah Cato and I'm sure next you'll win the Hunger Games too. Right? He scowled deeply at my remarks throwing up his hands. "You wait and see Shara. I will do both, get with Lottie _and_ win the games." Sure enough He got with Lottie and sure enough he'll win these Games. Because Cato doesn't lose or quit or allow himself to feel bad, he gets up and does what has to be done. Cato wins. And so will I.

"Shara! Shara come quick! Shara!" I heard him speak in my ears. The voice was one I had heard almost my entire sixteen years. Vocals I could identify if I were dead. Cato, he was in trouble. I rose from my place at the fire, squirrel be damned. "Cato? Where are you?" I screamed in terror. A calloused hand clamped around my mouth bringing a shiver down my spine. This hand wasn't Cato's. "Don't move bitch." One Katniss Everdeen said. My heart pumped all too quickly as she pressed a knife into my throat. I didn't speak. I didn't breathe. This time there was no prince to save me. The cold metal pushed deeper permanently tattooing my skin with a 4 inch long scar. And just when all hope was lost the sky rained fire down upon us. Katniss was left stunned. So as I ran through the hellish scene the gamemakers had unleashed I felt an undeniable admiration for Capital citizens, they had saved my life. They saw through Discricts twelves games.


End file.
